Maybe In The Morning
by Aesteraa
Summary: After a series of trauma induced dreams following Finn's death, Rachel contemplates the true nature of their past relationship and begins questioning her feelings for Kurt.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello! I've been working on this fic for a few months now and finally decided to post it. I've always felt that Finn's death would have had a greater emotional impact on Rachel, considering how they were engaged in Season 3. Anyway, it explores Rachel and Kurt's relationship and how tragedy can sometimes bring two people closer together. It's set after The Quarterback and runs till the end of Season 5, in an alternate reality where Santana doesn't live with Kurt and Rachel, because let's face it she was kind of redundant. Any reviews or comments will be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

 **Chapter 1: Awake**

 _The cheers from the crowd were deafening. The strange high of disbelief and joy seemed to go on for hours. The roar feels like a rush in her ears, rising to a crescendo before imploding into nothing. There is a moment of silence when her eyes meet his; the meters between stretching out like the Atlantic._

 _Nationals were over. They had won. She feels a pang of nostalgia for the moment, the last win in their three-year long run on the club. It was strange; each milestone crossed in the competition seemed to have symbolized a different point in their relationship. She had to tell him that she couldn't go through with the wedding. It just didn't feel right somehow. It scared her sometimes, when she looked at him, only to see nothing but a complete stranger looking back. The love and affection that she so desperately craved from him seemed to become more elusive by the day. But she also couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was another reason, something she just couldn't reach…_

 _She takes a step forward to him, and crumbles to the floor. The fluorescent lights and cheers intensify, shutting out her senses. The red of her dress bleeds into the wooden stage floor and her arms and legs are numb. She is falling, black clouding her vision, somewhere she hears him calling her name._

* * *

Rachel woke up with a jolt. Her heart was pounding, palms slick with sweat. Third dream this week. Real life always seemed duller at the edges, compared to the sharp radiance of her dreams. They always felt so real, even though it took her awhile to recall the content of the dream. She usually just wakes to a feeling, dregs of pain or pleasure leftover from slumber. She reached across the bed for her phone to check if she had missed any of his texts.

Then it hit her. The little details were important, but she was only truly convinced that she had woken up when she remembered. The bliss of ignorance faded along with the last drops of alcohol in her veins and the cavity in her chest started to dig into her lungs. She stared blankly at her inbox. At the last message he had ever sent her.

 _Heading into rehearsal now. Kids are doing great. Love ya._

She ran her fingers over the screen for good luck. It had become something of a habit and it felt strange to stop now.

She stayed in bed for just a while longer, trying to summon the energy to get up. Lethargy still hung around her like a shadow, even though she was positive that she got at least five hours of sleep, an improvement from the previous night. She read that insomnia was a common side effect of post-traumatic stress, which was what her previous therapist had diagnosed her with. She used to have three sessions scheduled each week, but they became infrequent before stopping completely when she lost the motivation to go. It just felt ridiculous and futile to spend so much time talking about someone that wasn't coming back.

Kurt was calling for her from the kitchen. She screwed her eyes shut and buried her face into the pillow. Mornings were always the hardest, overwhelming almost, with the weight of possibility. She couldn't fathom how she was able to get up at six every morning back in high school, when getting out of bed to go to shower or get dressed seemed like such a tedious effort now.

She tried recalling better mornings, as an attempt to coax herself out of bed. In her mind's eye, she saw herself drawing open the curtains and stepping out into the dining area, shielding her eyes from the sunlight as Kurt smiled sleepily and asked if she'd like a _croque madame,_ because eggs and bacon were too basic. She had declined then, because she had brunch plans with Finn later in the day, after her dance class. It had been an ordinary day, nothing memorable. It hurts to remember how much she took him for granted.

Breakfast with Kurt every morning was a part of her new routine that she had begun to rely on more than she should. It was something that only belonged to them, where they could sit in silence and draw on the strength of the other when words won't enough.

"She lives." Kurt shot her sidelong grin when she entered the kitchen, robe wrapped tight around her. As usual, he was already fully dressed in a navy button up and black leather pants, hair styled to perfection. "I was beginning to think that you were having one of those self-induced comas."

"I had another dream." She said, avoiding his eyes and busying herself with the coffee machine. "This one was…particularly vivid."

Kurt didn't respond, and after several heartbeats, she forced herself to look at him. He had his back to her; but the effect of her words was undeniable. The chirpy sound of stirring had stopped and his shoulders were tense, white knuckles tightening on the edge of the counter in a death grip.

It broke her heart to see him like this. Grieving for his brother silently, to spare her pain, only to have his momentary progress constantly shattered by her over sharing.

"I've made an appointment with another therapist this afternoon. Some new clinic two blocks away." She blurted. She wasn't sure what possessed her to lie, especially since she been adamant that visiting another shrink would be the ultimate last resort, despite Kurt's encouragement.

He turned to look at her, eyes alight with something akin to hope. "That's great. Wow. Let me know how it goes." He grabbed the spatula, and began humming while he stirred. The shift in the atmosphere was palpable; she could almost taste in the air. She bit her lip to conceal a smile as she watched him glide about, the happiest he'd been in days.

The smell of sizzling bacon was starting to make her stomach growl, which was strange considering her lack of appetite. He seemed to sense that and grabbed her a plate.

"Well, eat up. Some of us actually have class to attend." He set the plate in front of her and grabbed a juice for himself, moving to put on his coat. "See you tonight."

He kissed her on the cheek before running out of the apartment, taking the steps two at a time. She listened to his retreating footsteps, waiting for them to fade completely before getting up and dumping her breakfast into the trash.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Confrontations**

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and Ryan Murphy 

She had told the producers of _Funny Girl_ to put her on sabbatical for a week, due to a 'deep personal trauma.' It was mostly her director's idea, ever since they started dropping subtle messages of their paranoia that their star was going to have complete mental breakdown on opening night.

Seeing another therapist _wasn't_ the worst idea. She could really use something to talk to that wasn't Kurt. He already had enough on his plate without having to worry about her mental state. After a few minutes of Googling, she found an experienced PTSD psychologist at a clinic just a few blocks down. Without giving herself another chance to get cold feet, she made an appointment for 3pm that afternoon.

* * *

The waiting room was surprisingly airy and tastefully decorated, with several tan colored armchairs, beige walls framed with expensive looking pieces of modern art. After several minutes of pretending to flip through magazines, the receptionist called her name. Her therapist introduced herself as Abigail Williams; a short, energetic lady in her thirties with a blonde pixie cut. Upon entering the office, she was greeted by a strong fragrance that seemed to be a mixture of chamomile and sandalwood, along with an array of scented candles by the window.

"Go ahead and make yourself comfortable," she said amiably, as Rachel settled onto a leather armchair. "So what can I do for you today, Rachel?"

She took a deep breath. "A close friend of mine…passed recently. His name was Finn." She didn't want to use the word 'Fiancé', because they weren't technically still engaged at that point, even though they both knew that that was what was going to happen eventually. If he hadn't gone and died.

"And what did Finn mean to you? How close were you to him?" There was sympathy in her voice, along with a touch of sadness.

"He was…my boyfriend." It was almost impossible to put into words what Finn had meant to her. He was her duet partner, her one true soul mate.

"So you two were high school sweethearts. Post-traumatic stress due to a death of a loved one isn't unheard of. There are actually many support groups that I can recommend you for, if you're interested in talking to people who have faced similar tragedies."

"I've been having dreams."

She made a small note on the clipboard. "What kind of dreams?"

"Just snippets from the past, I guess. Of our time in school. Things we should have done."

"Regret is a common emotion associated with loss."

"We were going to get married. In fact, we almost did. We had planned the entire thing for months. Flowers, the dress, everything was perfect. But I–I just couldn't go through with it."

Abigail regarded her carefully, with the trained eyes of a hawk. It made her want to shrink back into her chair. "And with the suddenness of his death, your guilt has amplified. The finality of death makes us scrutinize everything we've ever done or said to the person in question. It's merely human nature. You mustn't blame yourself, Rachel."

Tears were searing at the back of her eyes. "I can't even remember why I backed out of the wedding. My friend, Kurt, kept telling me it wasn't a good idea and that we were way too young for such a major decision. And on the day itself, my other friend Quinn got into this huge car accident on the way to the ceremony. It just felt wrong to move forward with it."

Abigail leaned forward, still scribbling. "And what does your friend Kurt mean to you? It seems like he plays a major role in your decision making."

"He's my best friend." She cringed at how defensive she sounded. "It's not like that. We're just really involved in each other's lives. In fact, we're currently sharing an apartment in the city. We both go to NYADA. Or at least, I used to. It's a long story."

Abigail raised an eyebrow. "Just the two of you?"

"Yeah, he's always there for me when I need to talk things out, when things are spiraling out of control. He's been my rock through the good and bad, you know, ever since high school. He's honest with me and tells me straight up when I'm out of line. And it's a huge plus that we share the same crazy dream to make it big on Broadway. It's nice to have someone that challenges you as much as they support you."

"Sounds like you really care about him." Abigail's tone was teasing, but she couldn't shake the truth of her words.

She didn't think it was worth mentioning Kurt's sexuality. After all, what they had sometimes transcended a normal friendly relationship, even if she'd always seen him as just a friend.

"And what about Finn?" Abigail pressed. "Did he challenge you artistically the way Kurt does?"

The question was probing at an honest answer and she really didn't have the energy to lie anymore. "Not really. He wasn't as driven as us in terms of making a career in Broadway or the music. It was different for him because he was the star quarterback who was blackmailed into joining the Glee club. It was never all or nothing for him, like it was for us. Looking back, high school was nothing but a haze of lust and competitions and when we were shoved out into the real world, it all just fell apart."

"I guess I could never really believe that he wanted to be with me." She said softly, but Abigail caught it all the same.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back into the chair. "I can't think about all this right now. Sometimes I wish I could have a break from being me."

Abigail seemed to be intrigued by her last statement. "What else do you turn to, when you want to escape yourself?"

She hated the chaos of emotions swirling within her, barely contained by her fragile veneer of hair flips and forced smiles. Music was always there for her when nothing else was, like her own personal form of refuge. There were always rules to conform to: notes, keys, pitch, tone. A semitone short, and the whole performance would be ruined. It made sense to her, and in a way it helped her see the world the way everyone else did. It made her question and contemplate the pitying looks and dismissive scoffs she received whenever she went on about her Broadway dreams. She knew what they meant now, the irrefutable belief that the purity of ambition would always be crushed by the catastrophe and tragedy of life.

It was hard not to dwell on the truth of that particular statement, especially in her current situation.

"Music." There was only one answer. Through the joy and the tears. "I sing and try to lose myself in the melody and lyrics."

"I'm glad to hear that. Everybody needs his or her personal form of escapism, whatever that may be. Some turn to drugs and alcohol, replacing one poison with another. But nothing really cures the pain of heartbreak like falling in love with someone new, don't you think?"

"I don't think I'll be able to do that for the next few years. Or probably ever." She lets out a teary laugh and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to avoid Abigail's piercing gaze.

"Believe or not, time can heal almost anything. Funny thing about life is, you never know what could be just around the corner. It might just be exactly what you need."

* * *

That night, she ordered Chinese takeout for herself and spent thirty minutes flicking through channels before giving up retiring to bed. She felt strangely restless, tossing and turning in her sheets, Abigail's words echoing in her head. She made it sound so easy. Getting over someone and moving on to the next. She had probably never lost anyone that really mattered.

There were nights where she would sleep on the couch because just the thought of lying alone in an empty bed was enough to suffocate her. Nights that bore an uncanny resemblance to the evening when they had first got the call. Kurt working late and her ordering Chinese takeout. The look on Kurt's face when he answered the phone; how she instantly knew something was wrong when he locked eyes with her, his face ghost white. The way he held her as she sobbed her heart out on the floor, as if his arms around her were the only things in the world keeping her from shattering into a million pieces.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Her phone beeped with a new message from Kurt, informing her that he might be pulling an all-nighter at Vogue and to not wait up. She hated having the apartment all to herself. The quiet had a steady thrum to it. It drowned out all rational thought, forcing her mind to wander.

She grabbed her pillow and padded across the floorboards towards Kurt's partition, nestling into his silk sheets. His scent was heady and almost too overwhelming, like musk and mint and expensive soap. It was comforting somehow, to be in his space. She could almost feel his warm body pressed up against her.

Sleep was elusive as usual, so she lays there in defeat, allowing a fresh wave of pain to surge through her system, seeping into the marrow of her bones. There was nothing she could do but to curl up into a ball and wait for it to pass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Breathe**

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and Ryan Murphy

 _It had been a while since they were last alone in her room. She couldn't remember what day it was or even the time. But she had an inkling that he didn't have anywhere to be, and neither did she. The moment was theirs, and that was what mattered._

 _Without a second thought, she leans over and crushes her lips to his. His lips were as soft as they looked. She moves lower, tasting his jaw line before attacking his neck. He smelled so good, like musk and wine with a tinge of sweetness. That was strange, he usually smelled like boy, soap and sweat, the remnants of soccer practice never quite leaving his skin. Fingers began exploring his skin, sliding under his shirt-_

 _As she buries herself deeper into him, the warmth of his flesh begins to fade, skin hardening into ivory marble. She tilts her head up to look at him and a flash of pain strikes her hard in the chest when she remembers that he had brown eyes. She tries blinking away the tears because she can't look away from the strange aquamarine orbs staring down at her, filled to the brim with a love so deep she feels that she can drown in them forever-_

* * *

The weak morning light seeped through her floral curtains, casting strange patterns on the floorboards. Shivering, she brought a hand to her cheek and her fingers came away wet. Her chest felt sore and the label at the back of her shirt was cutting into her back.

Crawling to the edge of her bed, she started rummaging through her dresser for a pair of scissors, before remembering that Kurt had removed every remotely sharp object from her room after she had threatened to slit her wrists a few weeks ago on the night of her and Finn's anniversary. Their first anniversary after his passing.

It had been a rough day of school for her and she had probably mixed champagne with Xanax again. She hadn't meant a word of it but Kurt had turned the apartment upside down, stowing away anything that she could potentially use to inflict harm upon herself, including all the kitchen knives and can openers. They had to order takeout for dinner for the next few days until Kurt finally deemed her stable enough to be allowed near the chopping board.

 _Kurt._

She tried not to focus on her dream; after all it was a significant improvement from the torturous flashback sequences. There was nothing to make sense of anyway. Just some residual thoughts left over from that therapy session. The alarm clock read 9am, which was surprising. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept past the early hours of the morning unless she went to bed after midnight.

She spent the day lazing around and organizing her collection of sheet music, something she used to do almost every day back in Lima. It was comforting, going through her old Barbra and Celine Dion scores and running her fingers across the notes she had written down for her little web show before the Glee club even came into existence. She did a little tidying up in the afternoon, shelving new groceries and sweeping the floorboards, steering clear of Kurt's partition. She pretended not to notice how he had kept some of Finn's possessions around the apartment, several items of clothing and football memorabilia. Even in death Finn had somehow managed to weave himself into their lives, as if to make his presence heard in case they ever forgot.

Kurt had scored two free tickets to _Wicked_ in the evening, and they were planning to head over to the carnival down town for dinner after. She almost dozed off again when two hands clasped down on her shoulders, shaking her out of her half sleep.

She turned around frantically to see Kurt grinning at her, cheeks flushed from the cold. "Oh my god, I didn't hear you come in."

"You're not even dressed yet, the show starts at seven." He pouted, walking towards the full-length mirror to scrutinize his reflection, picking at the loose threads on his form fitting black blazer.

"Give me fifteen minutes. I'll meet you downstairs."

Drawing the privacy curtain between them, she started rooting her entire wardrobe, before moving to peer under her bed and pulling out any fallen clothing items stashed there. It dawned on her that she didn't have anything formal enough for the play, and she really didn't want another lecture from Kurt about her fashion choices. After several frantic minutes of pairing collared blouses with plaid skirts, she uncovered a black satin body con dress at the back of her closet. She paired it with black tights, as it was chilly out, and wiggled into her four-inch stilettos. There wasn't nearly enough time for a full face of makeup, so she settled for eyeliner and a single coat of mascara.

Just as she was about to head out, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back looked like some female action star, a femme fatale avenging her lost love. She took a deep breath and sent out a silent prayer, to let her be as strong as the girl with the smoky eyes and hollow cheeks claimed to be. Even if it was just for one night.

* * *

The show was fine. She had seen so many different Broadway renditions of _Wicked_ in her lifetime _,_ and even starred in a few herself, that she couldn't help but make mental notes of every miniscule error that her brain picked out regarding the singing and delivery of lines. She visibly winced when the actress playing Glenda the Good Witch went sharp for a few seconds without realizing it. Kurt seemed to enjoy it well enough, laughing and clapping on cue next to her stony silence.

There was a loud swell of applause when the two lead actresses hit the final note of _For Good_ in unison _,_ which took her right back to the time she and Kurt sang it to each other on an empty Broadway stage just a couple of blocks down. The whole song had seemed like an unspoken truce between them, the lyrics reminiscent of their past feud. She wasn't sure if she'd changed him for the better, but she could say without a doubt that she wouldn't be sitting here alive and breathing if it weren't for him.

When the show was over, they waited for the majority of the crowd to file out the main exit, before ducking out of the back door.

"So, you were awfully quiet during the show." Kurt said, steering her towards the bright lights of the carnival downtown. "If it's about the performances, remember that we agreed to be constructive and not critical. At least until my second glass of wine."

"No, it was great. I really enjoyed myself." She took his gloved hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow at her in mock skepticism. "No notes for once, huh? That therapy session must have really done a number on you."

"It was…helpful, I guess. I did get to vent my pent up feelings if nothing else."

"Nothing about me, I hope. The poor soul who had to listen to your incessant whining for the last few months before you finally developed the good sense to start paying a professional to do it."

He was biting back a smile, like he was waiting for her to crack up with him. He always looked so adorable when he did that. She heard Abigail's words in her head again, clear and crisp as if she was whispering in her ear.

 _Funny thing about life is, you never know what could be just around the corner._

She could sense that Kurt was purposely skirting the topic of the real reason for her visit. He was in such a good mood that she just couldn't bear to bring it up. She owed him this.

She flashed him a smirk and slipped her arm through his. "I told her that despite the inevitable toils of my Broadway career, I'm glad to have the accompaniment of my best friend's annoying commentary as I cross each milestone leading towards my eventual Tony nomination."

A/N: Thanks for all the lovely comments so far! I really wanted to paint a realistic picture in regards to Kurt and Rachel's relationship, as it was kind of glossed over on the show and the writers made it seem like Rachel was only using Kurt for her own benefit, which frustrated me to no end because it just turned more fans against Hummelberry. Personally, I think that Rachel cares deeply about Kurt. She sees him as her equal and something of a rival, that's why she doesn't bother putting up an act or sugarcoating her words and actions around him. She doesn't follow him everywhere because she knows that he'll be just fine by himself and wants to give him space to branch out and make new friends in New York. But she's always there when he needs her the most, like in 'Bash' or 'Old Dog New Tricks'.

Anyway, thanks for reading and the new chapter will be up soon. xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Ghost**

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and Ryan Murphy

When they got there, the carnival was already bustling with couples and families. Multi-colored fairy lights were strung high above the booths, illuminating the entire area in a strange otherworldly glow, creating an eerie fairytale like quality. Shouldering past the crowd, they made a beeline for stall selling mulled wine, ordering two cups and a couple of hot dogs topped with relish. Kurt caught sight of a booth selling custom cuff links, and dashed off, waving his phone at her as an indication to call when she was ready to meet up.

Somewhere within her peripheral vision, she noticed a tall brunette figure amidst the crowd, awkwardly shuffling past, shoulders hunched. Almost like an apology for towering above everyone else. Like he used to in the packed hallways of Mckinley.

It couldn't be him. He was dead and buried and she would never see his face again for as long as she lived. But she couldn't bring herself to turn away from that familiar form moving deeper into the crowd. There were so many things that she needed to say to him, lost words screamed at the clouded blue of the wee hours of the morning, reverberating into the dawn.

She struggled to stand on her tiptoes, just in time to catch a glimpse of the back of a red varsity jacket. The figure ducked into strand of game stalls and she stumbled after him, shoving several kids and parents out of the way. That earned her a few stares and muttering of a few choice words about drunken teenagers but their words just slid right off her. The figure picked up his pace, using his height as an advantage to get the crowd to part for him. He was so close, just a few meters away from her. A rush of adrenaline surged through her and she broke into a half sprint.

"Finn!" She called out, hands grasping uselessly at the space between them. "It's me. It's Rachel. Stop!"

She propelled herself forward through the mass of bodies. Her fingers were inches from his jacket. Just a little more and-

Out of nowhere, a middle aged man slammed into her, knocking them both to the ground. An awkward shuffle ensued for a few moments, as she tried to shove the man off her. She finally stumbled to her feet, glancing around frantically. The thrumming in her head had faded, replaced by an icy numbness. Finn was gone. He had abandoned her. For the second time.

She stood in the same spot for an unidentifiable amount of time, legs cemented to the ground, eyes scouring the crowd for that abnormally tall frame. She knew that she was stemming the human traffic flow, not to mention drawing attention to herself, but he was out there. And she would willingly stand here the whole night if there was even the tiniest sliver of hope that they could be together again. The crowd was getting thicker, masses of people passing in a blur. She started feeling a little lightheaded from all the bodies pressed up against her, and nearly jumped out of her skin when someone grabbed her from behind.

"Rachel! Oh my god, I've been looking for you for the past twenty minutes. Didn't you check your phone? What the hell happened?" Kurt was standing in front of her, hands on her shoulders, his features shifting in and out of focus. When she didn't respond, he rolled his eyes and dragged her to the nearest bench.

"You're pale as a ghost.'" Kurt sighed, pressing a fresh cup of mulled wine into her gloved hands. "Talk to me. Is it the pills again?"

"I saw him, Kurt." Her voice sounded small, like a child's. "Finn. He was right in front of me. But there were so many people and it was dark and…I lost him."

Kurt stared at her for a few seconds, jaw tightening. She knew that look all too well.

"He's dead, Rachel. We attended his funeral three months ago, remember? We watched as his coffin was lowered into the ground, piled with white roses, with your bouquet right on top as you requested. If there's any chance that he's alive, any at all, don't you think he'd be at our doorstep right this second? Banging the door down and yelling for you at the top of his lungs till the landlord throws him out?"

"You weren't there. You didn't see him, Kurt. He was even wearing his varsity jacket."

"The varsity jacket that's in my closet at our apartment right now?"

"I know it sounds crazy." She tried to keep her voice calm and rational but it still came out sounding mildly hysterical. "But what if he's still out there? Some, I don't know, lost version of him? What if I have to find him and bring him back?"

"Are you even listening to yourself? Are you seriously suggesting that Finn's spirit is still somehow anchored to our world because of your prophetic dreams?" His words dripped with remorse and sarcasm. She knew that he was just deflecting because he was mad at her, for being such an emotional wreck. She wasn't making things easy for him, but she needed to stand her ground.

She bit down on her lip. Hard. "I know what I saw, Kurt."

He turned, locking eyes with her. He seemed to be pleading with her with his eyes, begging her to let it go. It felt like a challenge somehow and she kept her chin up, holding his gaze with her own.

She waited for him to walk away, head bowed low and slipping into the crowd. Away from her. But instead he reached out, trembling fingers cradling her cheek.

"I'm here. I'm real. You're chasing a ghost, the same one for the last four months. Maybe you're right. Maybe a fragment of him is lingering just for you, because he can sense how much you miss him. But he can't stay forever, you know that. You have to move on before he can. And you will move on, not quickly, but eventually. And I'll be with you every step of the way."

His eyes darted across her face, searching for any sign of acceptance or understanding.

There was a haunted innocence about him that chilled her to the bone. The tainted purity of an angel that had been through the depths of hell only to resurface, alive but not unscathed. His fingers sent a trail a heat down her cheek, sliding across swell of her lips. Her breath hitched when he leaned forward, face inches away from hers. Under the weak fluorescent lamps, he looked almost translucent, the harsh lighting sharpening the cut of his cheekbones and deepening the blue-green of his eyes.

"You know that if I could trade places with him right now, I would." There was a tremble in his voice, as if he was on the verge of tears. His mouth was lingering dangerously close to her neck, hands sliding down her shoulder to the small of her back.

"Don't say that. I-" Her throat was thick with either desire or tears. Or both. "I want-"

A sudden burst of laughter echoed from the carnival and he jerked backwards, retracting his hand like he'd been scalded. He flushed red and averted his gaze, as if the intimacy of the moment had just become apparent to him. That he had been seconds away from kissing her.

She tried to speak, but no words came out. It was more than they had said in months; about the dreams, the pills, the memorabilia scattered around the apartment, the muffled sobs behind their individual partitions. But she didn't feel like crying now. It was as if the bottomless river had finally run dry.

Instead she hugged him tightly, the only other person in the world she loved as much as Finn, holding him close so that she could feel his heartbeat against hers, and swore to any forces that might be listening, to die before she allowed any harm to come to him.

A/N: Sigh. Kurt, my innocent snowflake, you are too pure for this world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Shatter**

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and Ryan Murphy

It was a quarter past midnight when they finally reached the apartment. She started her nightly routine, running herself a warm bath before getting comfortable on the couch, absentmindedly flicking through the channels. Kurt was muttering about the various books and magazines littering the floor, hinting that they were mostly hers. He sighed when she didn't respond and started stacking them into neat piles.

She stared numbly at the television as Kurt maneuvered around her, kneeling to retrieve a book from the coffee table. The sweet musk of his cologne intermingled with the late autumn chill was starting to invade her senses, and the room suddenly felt like a hundred degrees.

In that moment, it occurred to her that she had never noticed how good-looking he was, with his chiseled jawline and wide vulnerable eyes. He was always just _Kurt._ Sweet, innocent and oh-so damaged Kurt, who was crushing on Finn and getting shoved up against school lockers. That seemed like eons ago, and the boy standing in front of her now had a new air about him, exuding a confidence and maturity that spoke for itself, telling the world that he was finally at peace with himself. But moments like this never failed to propel her back into the past, her mind overflowing with memories of the well-dressed boy with the sad eyes trudging along the packed corridors with his head down, flashing her a look of deep scorn when he noticed her staring at him. It was crazy to think about how far they had come since then, and that they were now attending the most prestigious performing arts college in the city of dreams with an apartment all to themselves.

A blush crept over her cheeks when he absentmindedly rested a hand on her knee as he got up and she pondered over the new sensation, struggling to recall the last time she felt this way. Somewhere in the clouded recesses of her mind, a chiding voice reminded her that this would never be possible. And it would be absurd to even try.

But she had lost too much to care anymore. A strange impulse washed over her and she relented, releasing her chokehold on the reigns. She watched in sick fascination as her fingers began to move without her consent, gliding over Kurt's belt buckle, reaching to untuck his shirt before dipping lower, nails tracing circles on his thighs.

He turned around, a questioning look in his eyes; red blotches marring stark porcelain as his eyes fell on her wandering hands. She pulled him towards her playfully, tugging at his sleeve. At that, his smile faltered and he caught her by the wrist. It was a desperate move, and they both knew it.

"Hey, I'm exhausted, and you probably are too." He said, moving to turn off the television. "We should really call it a night."

The room was heavy with the weight of the unspoken, the mutual loss sharp and poignant between the both of them. She was often too caught up in her own grief to remember that he had lost someone too.

"I'm fine." Her voice sounded weak. Hollow. Even to her. She repressed mental images of what she must look like to him. Thin and sallow, no doubt. A shadow of her former self.

"Rachel. I'm not him." His tone was steady and despairing, and something in her shattered. Her vision had started to blur. There was nothing she could say in return.

To her surprise, he stepped forward, taking her into his arms, whispering soft apologies in her ear. A bolt of déjà vu shot through her system, and events of that night came flooding back to the surface. Kurt's arms tight around her as she sobbed and screamed on the floor of their apartment, clawing at his hands till they bled but he never once loosened his grip.

She focused on his familiar scent engulfing her senses and heat blossomed in the pit of her stomach, spreading to her extremities like wildfire. A carnal desire lashed out from within and she slipped her arms around his waist, pressing her lips against the pale stretch of skin above his collarbone. Tasting and touching, his pulse throbbing fast against her tongue.

He immediately recoiled, but she tightened her grip around his waist, pressing more kisses along his neck, grazing her lips across his jaw. At that, his body tensed again but he didn't try to push her away. His lips were full and luscious, curved into a perfect cupid's bow, almost like a girl's. Coyly, she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth.

Without any warning, he shoved her backwards, with a force she didn't anticipate. It took her a few moments to regain her balance. Her heart was pounding hard and fast, forcing its way out of her ribcage.

"Stop it. That's enough." He was breathing heavily, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. His eyes burned like blue fire.

Rachel reached out to touch him, but flinched when he jerked away. Her hand on his, their instinctive gesture to comfort the other was now freighted with a whole different meaning. A strange panic surged through her system.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just-I don't know what I thinking." She could still feel the blood pounding in her head.

 _You wanted to kiss me_ , _what's stopping you now?_ She almost said, but didn't.

Instead, she fixed her gaze on their badly painted walls and waited for him to start shouting at her, to start his usual rant about how ridiculous and selfish she was. But he stayed silent.

She stole a glance at him. He had collapsed onto the couch, head in his hands. Palms pressed into his eyes. Awkwardly, she got down on her knees in front of him.

"Please, just look at me." She was begging now. He peered at her warily through his fingers. He didn't seem angry anymore. Just tired. Somehow that was worse.

She realized that she hadn't gotten a good look at him in a long time, oblivious to how tired he looked, his angelic features masking a fatigue that ran deeper than the bruises under his eyes.

"We're _good_ for each other, Kurt." She whispered, more to herself than to him.

He scoffed in disgust, an ugly sound that made her flinch. "And what the hell do you expect me to say to that? I _sleep with other men_ , Rachel. Do I need to remind you of the death threats I received for that particular aspect of my personality?"

"Kurt, please. I said I'm sorry-" She had never seen him react like this before. He was standing upright now, fists clenched at his sides. Eyes murderous.

"I can _'_ t give you what you want." His voice broke into a sob and he turned away, shielding his face with his hands. "Please, for once just leave me alone."

She stood frozen in place, watching his shoulders and back tremble violently as he tried to stifle the sound of his sobs.

The recurring truth of her existence hits her hard. Always taking but never giving. An uncanny ability to destroy anything good that came her way.

Without another word, she tore out of the apartment into the chilly autumn night, slamming the door behind her.

A/N: Thanks a bunch for the all comments and support so far! I'm going to use this space to reply to comments because I don't like opening another thread in the comments section.

RachelStBerry: The entire fic is from Rachel's perspective, so we only see Kurt through Rachel's eyes. He usually wears his heart on his sleeve and he expresses his emotions very clearly whereas Rachel is more guarded. I wanted Kurt's thoughts to be something of a mystery, for the purpose of the fic, because that makes him more alluring in the eyes of Rachel. That's why I chose to write solely from her perspective instead of alternating between the both of them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Speak**

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and Ryan Murphy

She ran. Sprinting hard past the convenience stores and subway stations, the entire city coagulating into a muted blur of lights and laughter. Mockery she deserved, for every stupid mistake she ever made in her short lifetime.

Her legs were aching, but she only stopped when she reached the edge of the Hudson River. She was bent over, hands on her knees as she sucked in a few lungfuls of frigid air, grasping the metal barriers with all her might. The water was still, and she could see her reflection among the ripples.

The temperature had plummeted to the low twenties, and she wished that she had remembered to grab her coat on way out. The cold was going to be the last thing she ever felt.

She hoisted herself up over the railings, emptying out her pockets. A bottle of Xanax fell out of her coat, clattering onto the pavement. Scrambling about in the darkness, she bent over to retrieve the bottle and snapped open the lid. She tilted her head back, shaking about a third of the bottle into her mouth. The pills were hard and bitter and it took her awhile to swallow all of them. Several minutes passed before she started feeling queasy, the world spinning and splitting at its seams right before her eyes. She last thing she remembered were her legs giving out as she collapsed onto the pavement, before everything faded to black.

* * *

There was a loud beeping noise by her bedside. Groggily, she tried to reach for her alarm clock but the bedside table was empty. Then it all came tumbling back. The heat of desire pulsating through her. That same warmth slowly ebbing away as she ran off into the night. The pills.

Her surroundings were lit in austere fluorescent, pungent disinfectant permeating the air. She looked down to find herself wearing a hospital gown, an IV drip taped to her right arm.

Just as she was about to get up, a reedy looking doctor walked in, clutching a clipboard to his chest.

"Up and ready to go, huh?" he smiled, making a note on his clipboard. "I was worried that the stomach pump wouldn't be enough, considering that you had ingested nearly half the bottle-"

"Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but what time is it?" It had completely slipped her mind that she had told her producers that she would be back for rehearsals on Tuesday which she realized with horror, was today.

The doctor looked confused. "Well, it's almost one in the afternoon but-"

Before he could say another word, she ripped the IV off her arm climbed out of bed. She was just about to reach the door when a bout of nausea hit her and she collapsed on the marbled flooring, clutching her stomach. Several minutes later, she was back on the bed, with the help of a few nurses and the disgruntled doctor.

"You're gonna need at least a few days of bed rest before you'll be able to even _think_ about doing something as taxing as performing in a Broadway show."

"You don't understand, it's my show. I'm the star. They can't conduct rehearsals without me, which means that they may have to postpone opening night. And it'll be my fault." She took a deep breath. She was rambling and she would never get through to these people. They didn't understand what it was like to be so close to achieving all you ever wanted in life and completely blowing it on a whim. "I have to make it right."

She almost screamed in frustration when the response she received were a mixture of shocked and slightly pitying stares.

After a moment's pause, the doctor shook his head and sighed. "You'll probably be out in three days tops. You should have thought of that before downing those pills like candy."

"Three days? But that's-"

"Your best offer right now. Your boyfriend is waiting outside. We called him as soon as you were admitted."

"He's not my-" She leaned back into the pillow and closed her eyes, mentally cringing at the irony of it all. "I don't want to see him right now."

"Big fight?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

As if on cue, the door flew open and to reveal Kurt standing in the doorway, face white with panic. He barreled into the room and flung his arms around her, practically shoving the doctor aside.

"Rachel! Oh my god. Are you alright?" She hugged back him carefully, making sure not to graze him with the needle in her arm.

"Er, could we have some privacy?" Kurt asked, glancing around as if he just noticed the gawking faces around them. The doctor and nurses shuffled out, muttering darkly.

He shrugged off his coat and settled down on the bed. "I want you to be honest with me. Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"I don't know." She couldn't really remember what her intentions were, just that she wanted the pain to end. "I just couldn't take it anymore. The dreams. And after what happened with you-"

"So it's my fault?"

"No! No, of course not." She reached around the monitor to grab hold of his hands. "I was completely out of line. I shouldn't have done that. I just missed him so much that I just needed…someone. Anyone. Another person to go to bed with, the warmth of another body against mine. The thought of another night alone in that bed was just too unbearable."

"You could have just told me that. When I got the call, I just-" He took a shuddering breath. "I thought I had lost you too."

She felt sick with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. For everything."

"You know I love you as a friend, nothing more." She needed to see his eyes to make sure he heard everything. She had to make things right between them. "I just assumed you understood that if matters had…proceeded, it wouldn't mean anything."

"Rachel. If we had slept together, we wouldn't be able to look at each other in the eye for days. Sex isn't something you can just brush off. Even if both parties understand that it's casual."

He was right as usual. And she cursed at the warmth that pooled at the pit of her stomach when he mentioned sex.

"I guess the Friends with Benefits arrangement would never work for us, huh?" she said, a feeble attempt at humor.

He shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. "You're unbelievable."

They sat for a while, lounging on her bed and sharing the cinnamon rolls and coffee one of the nurses brought her. There was an underlying tension between them that was hard to ignore, amidst the seemingly mindless chatter.

"I was planning to leave for Lima tomorrow actually. Just for a few days. Blaine and I are kind of on the rocks and there's only so much you can get through Skype."

She nodded, bunching the thin paper sheets in her hands. Opening night was only a few days away, and they had been talking about it for weeks. But with everything that happened, asking him to stay in New York for her seemed like a stretch.

"But if you need me to stay-"

"No! No. I'll be fine. It's nothing serious anyway. I'll be discharged latest by Sunday. And then I'll be swarmed with rehearsals."

"Alright, if you're sure. But remember, I'm just a call away." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "And save me a seat for next Friday."

He started to pull away, but she caught hold of the side of his face, pulling him close so that their foreheads touched. Her insides were churning with need and it took every fragment of her being not to tilt her head up to meet his lips.

Their pulses quickened, jagged heartbeats synchronizing into one steady rhythm. And right in that moment, it dawned on her. Everything she had dismissed and denied for the past four years. From the feuds to the inside jokes to the shared duets. It was as if every guy she had ever dated had been either an excuse or a distraction from _this._ Because admitting that she was in love with her best friend, who could never love her back was too much to bear.

"Be safe." She whispered as he pulled away and turned towards the door.

"Kurt-" she started, a million words lodged in her throat. He paused mid step and glanced over his shoulder. "I-I really hope it works out with Blaine."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and raised his hand in a small wave. The gesture brought her back to the first time they acknowledged each other outside of the choir room. Staring at each other along the crowded corridors, eyes loaded with a mess of words and emotions better left unsaid.

Just as she was about to return the silent bid goodbye, he turned swiftly on his heel and walked right out the exit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Fade**

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and Ryan Murphy

A/N: I've decided to include a small snippet of Kurt's POV in this chapter as he's back in Lima for a few days while Rachel's still in New York.

The warm weather in Lima was refreshing, Kurt mused, compared to the frigid New York autumns. He had spent the entire plane ride thinking about what he was going to say to Blaine. Long distance had taken a huge toll on the physical intimacy of their relationship, which he knew was important to Blaine. He also knew that his boyfriend had a penchant for cheating whenever they were separated. He was sick of feeling the paranoia creep up on him when he least expected it, like a shadow he just couldn't shake. Their last Skype session was a dismal failure, filled with awkward silences and small talk till he couldn't take it anymore and lied that their Wi-Fi connection was breaking up.

He thought about Rachel, picturing her stubborn gaze and arrogant strut and smiled to himself. Three days was already starting to feel like a long time.

He stopped short in the front of Blaine's apartment, blinking at the bouquet of roses in his arm.

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do.

* * *

The days following her discharge from the hospital passed quickly and easily, with _Funny Girl_ rehearsals taking up the bulk of her time. There were no missed calls from Kurt but she didn't pry; the least she could do was to give him the privacy and breathing space that she had robbed him of for the past few weeks. It dawned on her that what happened between them might have been the reason for his sudden trip back home, to get some time away from her. It hurt, slightly, but she was fully aware that she deserved it, and she would take any form of punishment if it meant that she could make it up to him. Not just for what she initiated, but for everything. She hadn't been there for him when he needed her most, using and hurting him in the worst ways possible.

But a few weeks passed, and the dreams started to dwindle, fading away entirely after a month. She still talked to Finn sometimes, about her day or something funny that happened during rehearsal. And she knew that he was listening, somewhere else on a different plane. Unreachable. And that was perfectly fine with her, because she would see him again someday, when the time was right. The all-consuming need to be with him again had finally dissipated, replaced by a familiar hunger that she knew all too well. A hunger deep in her bones that could only sated by the roar of applause and the blinding halo of a single spotlight.

* * *

When the night finally arrived, it was a flurry of sound checks, last minute costume alterations and well wishes from her producers and friends, including Mercedes who flew in specially and Quinn who took a week off from Yale. Kurt wasn't among them, which wasn't too surprising considering that he was still at Lima. He could catch one of the other shows on another night. If the critics liked it, it would probably run for months. The Broadway business mostly revolved around word of mouth anyway, rumors travelling through a deadly grapevine also known as the Broadway blogs. Just thinking about the reviews gave her pre-show jitters, and she pushed them out of her mind. No negative thoughts allowed, she reminded herself, this was her moment and they aren't going to see what's coming.

She breezed through _I'm The Greatest Star_ , earning the first standing ovation of the night. The other songs were fairly upbeat and she tried to inject as much energy as possible into the performance, while not butchering the choreography. She headed back to her dressing room during the interval. Her producer was there, placing a vase of flowers on her dresser and lighting up when she enters.

"They love you." He told her, literally bouncing where he stood and clasping both her hands. "We're going to run for _years._ "

"Oh, I don't know about that." She leaned forward towards the mirror examining her reflection, before applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. "Let's not jinx it yet. The reviews will only be out on Monday."

"The reviewer for the New York Times was standing with the rest of the crowd. I was at the back and I heard murmurings that it was like Barbra had been reborn."

When she took the stage again, she noticed a figure shuffling through the crowd. He turned, and his face and hair caught the gleam from the stage lights. It was Kurt, taking his seat next to Quinn and Mercedes, smirking at her bewildered expression and mouthing a few a words to her.

 _Break a leg, Berry._

She braced herself as the orchestra began playing the first few notes of _Who Are You Now?_ The words seemed foreign to her, even though she had sung it at least a dozen times throughout her life. It was like she had never truly understood the meaning of the song until this moment. To have loved and lost, and be left with nothing but questions without answers was a fate she could barely even comprehend, until now.

A song had always been nothing but an opportunity. Her personal five minutes of fame. To turn the heads of everyone in the room and be more than a pathetic outcast for once.

But now it was clear to her that a song was nothing but an incomplete sentence. A half written novel with its pages ripped out and it was up to the listeners to fill in the missing pieces with their own. With their frayed ends and half healed scars, to turn it into something that was completely theirs. Each lyric felt like a stab to the chest, because for as long as she could remember, Finn was her missing piece, because he embodied every quality she lacked. She was always the best version of herself when she was around him. Firm as opposed to demanding, passionate but not bordering obnoxious. And she believed it with every fiber of her being, because she needed it to be true. And now that he was gone, she just felt lost. Her moral compass was shattered and she wasn't sure of her place in the world anymore.

Her conflicting emotions clearly made its way into the rich baritone of her voice, as the crowd stayed completely silent. She held the last note for a few seconds longer than necessary, pressing two fingers to her lips and raising them up towards the domed roof of the theatre. Her eyes found Kurt's in the audience, his gaze intimate and penetrating, so wide and sad that her voice wavered slightly. The sudden burst of applause from the crowd slammed her out of her stupor, reverberating throughout the theatre, sending chills down her spine. It was her cue to give one last bow and leave the stage, but her legs were rooted to the ground. The curtains drew to a close before her, but she could still hear the cheers, getting louder by the second. At some point, someone came by and escorted her back to her dressing room, which resembled a flower garden at that point.

Quinn and Mercedes came barreling into the room, Kurt trailing behind with a knowing smile, flinging their arms around her and squealing about how amazing she was. She thanked them without even hearing it, staring sightlessly at the heaps of elaborate bouquets, searching for a single red rose, the one he promised her so many years ago.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Rewind**

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and Ryan Murphy

* * *

"Your face was priceless." Kurt laughed, setting down their Italian takeaway on the dining table and reaching into the cabinet for two plates. Mercedes and Quinn had planned on taking her out for a celebratory dinner but she insisted that she was exhausted and just wanted to go home. Truthfully, she just didn't feel like being around anyone except Kurt for the night.

"You could have told me you were coming." She said, maneuvering around him to grab a bottle of red wine. "I had to jump through hoops to get you your ticket for next Friday. It's still in my purse if you want it."

He sat down opposite her and began spooning out equal portions of linguine and salad. "Please. I'm sure the demand for tickets started tonight. After the show. More specifically, after you hit that last note of _Who Are You Now?"_

She leaned forward, twirling pasta in her fork. "Do you really think I was that good?"

"Fishing for a compliment?" He speared an olive and dropped it onto her plate. He knew that she loved black olives and always made it a point to give her the extras.

She shrugged and glanced up at him through her lashes. "You caught me."

He laughed, gentle and easy, knees bumping against hers under the table.

"But I guess I'm asking because I wasn't really in the moment. After a performance, I usually know if I'm up to par with the expected standard and what the consensus of the reviews will be like. But during that last song…it was like a walking through a dream, following a familiar voice in the distance before I realized that it was mine.'

"Did you have a few shots to take off the edge before going on stage?"

"Well, I had one but that's not the point." She ignored his smirk. "I'm just not used to not knowing how I fared."

"You were great. You always are, even when you're not trying." He said it like it was nothing more than a passing remark, like it didn't cost a thing. She felt a swell of affection for him, for her selfless and kind best friend who deserved so much more than what she gave him.

She stood up to clear the plates, crossing over to slide an arm around his shoulders and kissing the top of his head. "Thank you."

They did the dishes in silence, she washed and he dried, occasionally grumbling about how they really needed to save up for a dishwasher.

"So are we good?"

"Rachel- we don't have to go there again." He leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest as he watched her scrub at a spotless plate.

"I need to know that I'm forgiven, Kurt." She dropped the sponge and turned to face him. "What we have means a lot to me, and I need you to know that I wouldn't trade it for the world."

He watched her with soft, knowing eyes that sent her pulse racing. In the muted half-light, he was almost glowing. "I'm sorry too. For overreacting."

"Alright, come here." She grinned, sliding her arms around his middle. He was so tall, probably only an inch shorter than Finn. Her hands were still shaking, and she clenched them into fists.

"You alright?" He asked, when she pulled away.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I-I just really miss him." She ran shaky fingers through her hair and reached for her glass of wine, downing it in two gulps. "God, Kurt."

It took her a few moments to compose herself. "I've always imagined him to be there, when I finally make it on Broadway. The lyrics of that last song chilled me to the bone and I just kept looking through the sea of faces, searching for him. Like he was sitting somewhere in the audience, and that I'd spot him if I only looked hard enough."

He listened, eyes wide and bright with tears.

"I used to think that being jeered at and shoved around was the worst kind of torture. It made me lie awake all night, the faces of those Neanderthals invading every crevice of my mind. It was as if my thoughts weren't my own any more. And Finn used to be one of them. But right now, I would happily take a full beating if it meant that I could see him again. The irony of life right?"

"I never really noticed him until that first day of rehearsal. But then again, I didn't really pay attention to anyone else except myself back then."

He laughed, a delicate sound. "The pain...it never really goes away. I guess we've just learnt to live around it. Some days it's stronger and some days it's like it isn't even there."

They continue on for hours, talking through every single memory they had of him. Every joke. Every triumph. Every mistake. His clumsy dance moves and hilarious misinterpretations of the Showbiz slang. The time he almost tripped during regionals, but recovered by attempting to make it look like he was moonwalking, which led to several panicked improvisations from Puck and Sam. The entire team had to pretend that they didn't see Mr. Schue's mouth hanging agape in the audience, palm glued to his forehead. She remembered that performance clearly, because she was trying so hard not to burst into hysterical giggles in the middle of the song, which was only made worse when she saw Kurt struggling to do the same on the other side of the stage.

She laughed so hard that fresh tears filled her eyes, the nostalgia hitting her hard. It was like the dense, clinging weight of the nightmare that had been the last few months had finally been lifted off her chest. She wasn't sure how her head moved from his shoulder to his lap, his slim fingers running through her hair as they sat in comforting silence, when they had ran out of anecdotes to talk about.

And it was only after Kurt had gone to bed, when she realized that she never once had a conversation with Finn that lasted longer than twenty minutes. And more often than not, she was doing most of the talking and he was doing a fraction of the listening, if she was lucky.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Change**

A/N: This is going to be the last chapter, so please R&R! A huge thanks to everyone who followed this story right to the end! I have more multi-chaptered stories planned for other fandoms as well so stay tuned:)

* * *

As much as she tried to deny it, she needed some space. To think, to breathe. To forget.

Being around Kurt was what kept her sane for the past few months, but she needed some time alone to get her head right, to cleanse her system of the remnants of confusion that was still swirling inside of her.

There was a permanent ache in her chest whenever she looked at him, something she thought would go away with time. But with every passing day, it only grew. A feral beast clawing its way out of her. It made her miss the warm glow she used to feel whenever he was around her, replaced now by this insatiable desire and it was getting harder force herself to turn away.

It was torturous to be around him, to have him go on about his day when all she could think about running her fingers through his hair, sliding her tongue into his mouth without the cold undercurrent of guilt coursing through her veins like venom.

There was no way she could bring herself to tell him, so she left a note for him on the dining table. An act of cowardice, no doubt, but she didn't trust herself to say it to his face. She was about to leave when their steel framed sliding door was yanked open. He seemed puzzled at the stack of luggage piled at the doorstep. Like a form of explanation, she handed him the note. She watched as he scanned it, his face a mask of stoic tragedy.

She didn't wait for him to finish. Instead, she grabbed her suitcases and bolted downstairs straight into the pouring rain. He was calling her name, a soft sound drowned out by the torrential rain hitting the pavement. But she kept going. She knew all too well that she would relent at the sight of him, lose her mind if he started pleading with her to stay.

She was about half way across the street when cold fingers encircled her wrist, jerking her backwards. He was standing barefoot in the rain, white shirt soaked and translucent clinging to his skin, looking so lost and alone that her heart clenched all over again.

His arms encircled her waist, pressing her body against his. And then his mouth was on hers, hot and desperate. He tasted like rain and tears, salt water caressing her tongue, and something unraveled within her. She kissed him back hard, putting her whole heart into it, because it was his now. Somehow it felt like it always had been.

* * *

It was hard to remember the last time she felt this happy. This _free._ Like she was living in a constant haze of sheer joy, so strong that sometimes she thought she was breaking apart at the seams. It was a fog that slipped into her dreams, wrapping around her like a cloak. And then she would wake, and he'd be there, his warm body pressed up against hers. It was miraculous, the way she could lean over and kiss him good morning, like it was the most normal thing on earth.

She always woke a few moments before he did, which gave her a few precious minutes to marvel at the way the weak morning light curved around the planes of his face. He was beginning to stir, and she scooted over to plant a kiss on his lips. His neck. His chest.

"Mmm…" He cracked open an eye and she made a dive for his face, planting a wet kiss on his forehead before he caught her wrists and flipped her onto her back.

"Morning." She knew that she was grinning like an idiot.

"Hey yourself." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before releasing her and rolling out of bed. "Breakfast?"

"We could go to the deli. I need my last decent bagel before I leave New York for God knows how long." She was propped up on her elbow, wearing nothing aside from a thin lace brassiere with matching bottoms, trying not to ogle when he retrieved a pair of folded jeans from the closet and began undoing the knot of his cotton pants.

"You should get in the shower. Don't you have to be at the airport in three hours?"

"After I'm done admiring the view." She said, thoroughly enjoying how her words sent red creeping over his back and shoulders.

Three months had passed since the first opening night. Friendship was difficult to turn into love, and the apartment seemed smaller than ever. Like the walls were closing in on them, reducing the floor space till they collided into each other.

They were taking things slow. She knew that this was all new for him and she could feel his uncertainty in his hands whenever he touched her, exploring her feminine curves and twining his fingers into her hair like she was some exotic creature. She knew that Kurt had never been with anyone except Blaine and they had called it quits as soon as they became official, which led to some degree of hostility. And she had to admit that it bugged her for quite a while, if what they had was even worth a shot. But it all melted away whenever Kurt looked at her, all awe and appreciation, as if he was seeing her for the first time.

She was planning to take a trip around Europe for a few months. Her therapist was all for that idea, saying that a break from the city would do her some good. And she agreed. New York was like a weight she just couldn't shake. The obnoxiously urban sights and sounds were all she had for the past few months and she was overwhelmed by a strange bout of nausea whenever she looked out of the window. The success of the first few shows of _Funny Girl_ gave her some leverage and the producers agreed to let her understudy cover for her until she got back. It was time for a change. Not forever, but long enough to heal.

She had planned to take Kurt along with her, but after much thought, they both agreed that he should stay put. Mid term appraisals were coming up at NYADA and he was still working part time at Vogue. She didn't want him to drop all his responsibilities for a spur of the moment trip. She needed this trip for herself, without any distractions, to figure out her next step.

* * *

The airport was filled bustling tourists and families. After checking in her luggage at her designated gate, they headed towards her terminal.

He turned and planted a kiss on her cheek, lips lingering for a heartbeat too long. And like a giddy afterthought, he moved in to kiss her full on the mouth. When he pulled away, the world was positively glowing.

"Still getting used to being able to do that." He whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

She nodded, tightening her grasp on the lapels of his velvet blazer. They hadn't gotten the chance to have 'the talk' yet, about what exactly was between them. She didn't want to be the one to bring it up because she wasn't sure where she stood with him. Kurt's sexuality was still a huge barrier for them, and she wanted to give him the space he needed to figure that out. But she wouldn't be able to see him for a good few months, and it was her last chance to clear the air.

"So…" She started, but he pressed a finger to her lips.

"If we're really gonna give this a shot, we need it take it slow." He said, as if he read her mind. "No labels, discussions about sex or obligatory nicknames until we're at least three months in, hopefully without any major catastrophes."

She laughed. "Deal. But I get to choose my terms too and Friday night dinner dates are all I ask for. And maybe some cuddling before bed."

"I can work with that." He extended a hand out to her and she took it, pulling him to his feet. "Long distance is going to be hard."

"It's only for a few months. I'll be back before you know it." She wrapped her arms tight around him. "I'll call you every night."

"At least I'll have something to look forward to."

A ray of sunlight momentarily obscured her vision as she walked through the gate. She was dazzled for a moment by the beauty of it. The promise of hope that came with each new day.

She would be back. Not for Broadway, Madison Avenue or even the mouthwatering bagels.

But for him. Her one true soul mate. She had never been so sure of anything in her life.

She turned around briefly, to catch one last glimpse of his waving form. She noticed that there seemed to be a luminous white halo surrounding him, threads of light reaching out to her through the wall of glass.

But then again, it was probably just the sun.


End file.
